


JFGogh Smutshots (bc I have no shame)

by hrothman_mothman



Category: Clone High
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Overstimulation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rough Sex, Size Difference, degradation kink, fluffy sex, jesus fucking christ im going to hell, more tags to come, no beta we die like ponce
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:47:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hrothman_mothman/pseuds/hrothman_mothman
Summary: So, *claps hands together* this is how I'm spending my 2021. Nice.All characters in this are AGED UP, there is no child to be seen in this. Zero minors, because christ thats gross. They are 18 at the least. Just let me post this.
Relationships: JFK & Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High), JFK/Vincent Van Gogh (Clone High)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 98





	1. Gentle Touching

**Author's Note:**

> John and Vincent started dating sometime in senior year of high school. Defying all odds, they ended up being a rather stable couple! And with every couple, or at least ones that arent asexual, there is a level of sexual activity that helps in keeping it healthy.

5:06 PM, Johns bedroom.

Vincent sits criss-crossed on Johns bedroom floor, talking endlessly about one thing or another. John simply watches and listens, happy to listen to his boyfriend ramble off about the things he enjoys. Does he completely understand? No, but that's okay. Sometimes, John will pop up with a question, asking Vincent to explain something he said, or to expand on an idea he has.

"Have you ever seen that one painting by Claude Monet? The one where- it's a bridge over water and it's sunny?"  
"Uh, no, I don't think I have." John hums.  
"Shit, I don't remember the name of it."  
Vincent hops up from the carpet, and asks, eagerly, "Can I use your desktop?"

Off center, on the far wall of Johns room, near a window, is a desktop computer, which he normally uses for porn or video games. The taller man shrugs. Surprisingly, it's not password protected. John must have a lot of faith in his foster dads.

John watches Vincent walk, and remain standing, leaning over his desk. Brown eyes wander over his thin frame, draped in an oversized sweater and torn skinny jeans. He and Vincent hadn't really... Done anything, per say. There's been some flirtatious conversations, some teasing, but never any touching, at least, not sexually, anyway.  
Something John loves to do is just touch Vincent, no matter the context. He could be totally content with just twirling his fingers through his partners ginger hair, working out the knots, caressing his cheek. John could feel his heart beating in his chest. There's a chair right there, but Vincent refuses to even acknowledge it.

"Don't you, uh, wanna sit down?"   
"It'll just take me a second- god your computer is slow."

Vincent's elbows sink down to the desk. John almost wasn't entirely thinking when he stood up, walking slowly, barefooted behind Vincent. His big hands find their way to the smaller mans shoulders. Vince's head whips around,  
"What're you doing?"  
"Just watching you."  
Gogh huffed, bringing his suspicious eyes back to the LED screen. It was taking forever. Why does John have Bing as his default browser? Suddenly, he felt a gasp escape his lips. Johns hands slowly make their way down his bony back, down to his hips, and all the way back up to his shoulders. It's... normal. John's always been touchy. Maybe it just feels different, because he's behind Vincent, while he's bent over a computer desk... Oh gosh.   
His breath starts to get shaky. He's trying so hard to focus on pulling up google and googling this artists name, but when he gets there, his fingers get lost on the keyboard. Johns hands were distracting him. Was he really this touch starved?  
Johns hands plant firmly on Vincent's ass, squeezing and earning another gasp, before trekking their way up and under Goghs sweater.

"You're so tiny, Vin."  
He can hardly respond. Vincents hand reaches out to the arm of the chair, feeling weak in the knees, but that wasnt going to happen. John reacted so fast he could hardly believe his own reflexes, the way he put his foot on the wheeled chair and pushed it away from his boyfriend.  
"Nah, just stay right there. It'll only take you a second, right?"

The bitch was teasing him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Instead, Vince rests himself completely on the desk, no longer struggling or striving to type. He'll remember the name of the painting later. Right now, he's too busy focusing on the feeling of John running his big, yet so incredibly gentle hands all over his back. John loves this. The bastard is getting so incredibly cocky, taking in the reaction he's getting. He feels so powerful- the fact that just his soft touch alone could work up his boyfriend like this? It's incredible! Slowly, his hands start to explore the front of his chest, starting low at the bony hips, moving up, sliding over the stomach and rib cage, to his sternum.  
Vins breath hitches, he almost lets a moan escape him, but he's still pretending to be too dignified for that. Is he embarrassed for getting so turned on? Yes. Even more so that his nipples are so sensitive that he had to hold himself back. He tries hard to rationalize in his head, this is normal, that's not weird at all, but his mind is wiped blank as John squeezes his chest, moving slowly back down to his hips.

It just continues, and slowly, Vincent becomes more of a mess, whimpering, "John, John," which only encourages his boyfriends actions. The sweet little moans are like music to his ears. Would you have ever imagined that it would be too much for little Vincent?

"John, fuck, John-"  
"What is it? Hm?"  
"I-" He can't form a solid word.  
"C'mon, tell me, you can do it!"  
But he can't. Every breath that comes out is so winded, and drenched with lust.  
"You're so pretty, Vin."

Fuck. Vincent ends up biting into his arm, trying so hard to silence himself as his body is wracked with absolute bliss. He's shaking so hard, he would have collapsed if it weren't for John holding him so tightly.   
Without having even been touched, Vincent still managed to make a mess of himself.   
"You came? Really?"  
He's still trying so hard to catch his breath, "I- I'm sorry-"  
But John laughed, picking up his tiny boyfriend and bringing him back to the bed, saying,  
"Don't be sorry," with a smile, "it was really cute."  
"It's your fault!" Vincent protested, hiding his face in his hands.  
"Sorry, I'll uh, try not to distract you next time. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

"I'd appreciate that."


	2. Blood Kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here I am, writing about a dutch painter liking the taste of his boyfriends blood and getting pounded in a bathroom stall after school. Fuckin... enjoy I guess.

"Stupid! Fucking idiot!"  
Vincent drags John by the sleeve into a restroom down the hall.  
"Ah, babe, it wasn't that bad." John protests. Whether it's defending his name, their relationship, or someone gave him a funny look, John always has a reason for socking another guy in the face and getting himself into a adrenaline-pumping fights.  
"Not that bad?" Vincent slams the restroom door behind him. What he likes about these old-school bathrooms is the physical entrance to them, with a turning lock and all. "God, you're so fucking stupid. You TOLD me you wouldn't do this anymore!"  
"The guy was asking for it, Vin!"  
"Shut up, hold on."  
The shorter boy paced over to the sink, grabbing a couple of paper towels and dampening them.   
"Come here," he says, but as John leans down to Vincents height, he suddenly becomes... distracted. As weird as it was, he seemed to be in love with the way the blood was smeared from Johns nose, and across his face from absent mindedly wiping it away. Blood continued to slowly pool, making its way down to his upper lip. Johns lower lip was busted too, but the blood had already coagulated, now turning the cut a deep reddish brown.

"What's the uh, the matter?" John says, raising an eyebrow. It snaps Vincent out of his daze instantly.  
He shakes his head, "Sorry, sorry, I was thinking about something."  
"Thinking about what?"  
That was a hard question to answer.  
"Just... I don't know. Blood's kind of cool, I guess."  
John didn't seem satisfied with that answer. Still, Vin started wiping away at the dried blood, eventually moving to the more fresh. He groans, when it just kept coming.  
"This dude really got a couple of good hits in. Do you think he broke it?" There was no response. This time, it was John staring at Vincent, with no reply. His eyes seemed tentative to every detail of his boyfriends face, counting the freckles, the strands of hair loose from the scarf covering his ears. Slowly, John leans forward, cupping Vincents face in his hands, and kisses him lightly on the lips. If there was ever a more inappropriate time to kiss someone, it was now.  
What was worse was the reaction Vincent had. All he wanted to do was clean his stupid jock up, and go home, but now Vin can feel the blood reaching his lips, falling into every crack and crevice of his mouth. It was warm, and tasted like iron. Vincent shook his head and moved himself away, frightened by himself. Christ, how much weirder can this kid get?  
You know what's more inappropriate than kissing your boyfriend after a fight? Getting a boner from tasting your boyfriends blood.

His hand clapped over his mouth, as he stumbled back and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Vincents lips are stained a red orange, with his face bright red and his skinny jeans feeling skinnier- good lord, someone save him. Vin grips onto the ceramic sink and pants,  
"Sorry- sorry, I just- um.."  
One more apology and John might fucking lose it. He's already on edge, for multiple reasons. There isn't a lot John likes more than a good-ole battle of fisticuffs, but something that he does like more, is watching Vinnie squirm and wiggle, getting flustered over the tiniest things. Now THAT is what he's talking about. John walks up and hugs Vincent from behind.  
"Nah," he says, planting a kiss on his lovers pale neck, staining it, "don't be sorry, Sunflower. You know, I like learnin' more about you." Learning.. more- oh gosh. One of Johns hands travel down to the bump in Vins jeans, giving him a teasing squeeze.  
"Shit!-" Vin slaps a hand back over his mouth. John's always been adventurous. He'll do anything anywhere he can, and right now, the only limits Vincent has is privacy. Well, there's plenty of privacy in a locked bathroom, isn't there?

"Shh," the taller, brown eyed man says, trailing his lip up his neck, "be quiet, doll. Can't get- get too loud, okay?"  
"Should- should we really, um-"  
"Are you okay with it?"  
John's voice goes from dominating to soft and sincere. Of course he wants his boyfriends consent! That's number one priority, pal! And Vincent is thrilled by the idea of it. Slowly, he starts nodding his head up and down, giving a little "Mhm.."

And that's all he really needs.

Johns bruised hands can't even dream of hesitating. In mere seconds, Vincents pants are unbuttoned and unzipped. The left hand slides over his yellow briefs, rubbing him softly, while the other traces its way back up into Vincent's hair, gripping the ginger locks.  
"Man, look at you, pretty boy." The tall man hums, making sure Vincent can see himself in the shitty metal-sheet mirror- hair a mess, with dried blood still on his face. John could feel his boyfriend twitch in his hand. A thumb wraps around the waist band of Vins jeans, pulling them down just to his mid thigh. Johns fingers let go of Vincents hair, and instead start to reach around and prod at his mouth.  
"Hey, uh, help me help you?" Oh fuck. Though there was no hesitation, Vincent still was slow to open his mouth and stick out his tongue. Maybe it was a way of sort of teasing John back, if that was possible in this damning situation. With more preparation, and perhaps knowledge before hand, Vin can make a pretty great power bottom. It's different when he's taken by surprise. Being with John helped him learn a lot of things about himself, like, for instance, how much he likes it when John makes him suck on his fingers.

When his middle and forefinger are properly slicked with spit down to his bruised and beaten knuckles. John takes the liberty of pulling his lovers underwear down, and squeezing the bare ass left behind, earning a squeak.   
The spit made Johns fingers so cold, Vincent plants his hands on the mirror for support. God, looking at himself like this, in public, no less, he could- ah! Fuck!  
John is so deliberately slow, pushing his fingers in just centimeters before stopping, letting them twist and turn, stretching Vincent out. He can see his hot breath fogging up the mirror, which, in itself was a blessing. He felt to embarrassed to look at himself, getting fingered, and soon fucked, in the freshman hallway mens bathroom, leaning over the sink, resting all his weight on the mirror. All because he loved the taste of Johns blood so much.

"Deep breath, baby."  
Vincent obeys without a second thought. How long John had had his cock out for, is up to the gods, though, I'm sure they're pretending to be both blind and deaf, which is fine. As silly as it sounds, just thinking about Johns dick makes Vincent drool. The thing is fucking massive and tastes so good. He bites his lip, feeling John start to slowly push into him, stretching him further. John rubs his back, whispering,  
"You're doing so good baby, so good."  
His words get more vulgar the deeper he goes. Innocent praises turn into, "Fuck, you're so- you're so tight," with Johns left hand pumping Vincents dick while he slowly starts to speed up his thrusting. Sometimes, Vincent thinks that there's no way he can feel this good, and there not be a god to thank for it. It's entirely possible that god is right behind him, shoving his face against the mirror, sinking his teeth into his neck, biting him like a wild animal. That's a religion he can get behind- or, under, I guess.  
And of course, Vincent, being as underexperienced as he is, just doesn't have the stamina to keep up with Johns animalistic lust. Just a handful of minutes into it, and Vin is already blowing all over Johns hand and the bathroom floor. Can't stop John though! Thank god for over stimulation.

"Fuck- fucking christ- John! Fuck!"  
"Shh, fuck, doll, I'm almost there."  
"God, John, god, please!"  
Vin had came twice since they started, and finally now finishing with a third, while John pulls out, for curtesy reasons, and releases, pumping ropes of thick, white cum onto Vincents ass, letting it drip into his underwear.

"... Christ." Vin huffs, looking at the mess below him. He's really gotta work on his stamina.  
John is quick to grab some paper towels, cleaning Vincent up, as well as himself, and tossing the used napkins into the bin. Vin is very quickly stopped when he tries to help, after all, he just got his brains fucked out.   
"Absolutely not, go uh, sit down alright? I'll drive us home."  
Slowly pulling his pants back up, and sliding his back down against the wall, he huffs and nods.

"Hey, John?"  
"Yeah, doll?"  
"You've still got blood on your face."


	3. Arms Tonite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based off a digital drawing I did, that was inspired by a friend!!! John holds Vin and encourages him while Vincent touches himself.
> 
> This is very fluffy!!! And very short!!!! But please enjoy it  
> Also, YES, I DO take requests!!! And I read every comment!!! So if you want me to do something all you gotta do is suggest it!!! Thank you guys for being so supportive of this <3 they're super fun to make!!!

And just how did we end up here, this time? It seems like every day is a new adventure. Vincent shivers as the cold air of the bedroom attacked his skin. Their legs were entangled, facing each other. Just minutes before, John was begging, _"Please, entertain me,"_ and what was Johns preferred form of entertainment?

Vincent is red in the face. "I, uh- I guess I can do that."

The request wasn't anything outlandish. It was simple. Strip, sit in his lap, and masturbate. Then why was he so nervous? Johns actions followed closely in suit, articles of clothing dropping to the floor. He laughs, pulling the smaller man closer to him.  
"Just- just enjoy yourself." he says with a charming smile. As far as Vincent knew, John has always been confident in his body. It's just something that came naturally to him. As weird as it sounds, the things that they do, the praises John whispers, has started to change Vincents perception of himself. This act, in and of itself, was definitely an ego booster.

"Come 'ere, doll." John whispered slowly, bringing Vin forward, just enough to kiss his lips. Vincent's lips smelled like strawberries, and his skin like lavender and paint. Kennedy brushed his hands through Vincents red, wavy hair, hitting a hitch in the scarf that was kept wrapped around his head.  
"Oh, sorry, I forgot-" Vin says sheepishly, unpinning the cloth and slowly unwrapping it from his head. He doesn't really _need_ it anymore. His ear healed a long time ago, but the scarf keeping it covered was more of a comfort item than a protection from infection.  
"There we go..." John smiles, running his fingers through his boyfriends hair. "Man, you're so pretty, Vin..."  
"You're stupid." He doesn't mean that, though, he's just flustered, and John knows this. He can't help but smile at his perfect lover. Now they're both situated, the only thing left to do is bite the bullet. Vin looks down, biting his bottom lip. It's different when someone's watching. One of Johns hands moves back behind him to support his weight, while the other trails down, cupping Vins cheek, his thumb stroking it slowly.  
Taking a deep breath, Vincent finally let his hand relax on his dick, just taking it slow with simple touches, groping at it gently. Johns hand slides down to his shoulder, then down his arm, and eventually resting on his scar-ridden thigh. His sweet touches encouraged Vincent, physically, at least. He's definitely harder than he was a couple of minutes ago.  
"You're doing so good, Vin..."  
He let out a gasp, but was quickly disappointed when the air fell silent again. The strokes began to slow down.  
"What's uh- what's wrong?"  
"You.. Could you maybe... Keep doing that?"  
"... Doing what?"  
"Keep... saying those things.."  
John chuckles a bit, squeezing Vincents thigh, "Of course, Vinny boy. Good job askin'."  
Vinny boy? Oh goodness... It's crazy how when you find someone you like, the simplest things can drive you wild- things you never even imagined would bother you, or work you up, suddenly become the most erotic and exciting things you've ever experienced. It was more than enough to get him back in motion.  
Each praise shot like lightning through Vins body, straight to his dick. Johns voice, his kind words and loving stares enhanced the feeling completely. Slowly, Vincents deliberate, lazy strokes became quicker. He'd thumb over the pink head, dragging the precum that beaded at the tip, and moving his skinny fingers back down to twist and pump. His breath was growing heavy.

"You close, doll?"  
He could only mutter a whine, and nod his head slowly. "Y-Yeah, I am."  
"Come for me, baby. Let me see you- look at me."  
Through heavy pants, Vincent tried his best to pry his eyes away from his working hand, and look up at Johns smiling face. His whole body was on fire.  
"Good boy, Vin.."  
It was like his whole mind went blank, was instead was replaced with absolute heaven. Blinded by hot white pleasure, he didn't even notice that he was making a mess of his boyfriends chest.  
"Fuck, I'm sorry." Vin huffed, looking down at his boyfriends slowly rising and falling muscles. Vin adjusts himself, leaning down and licking it up. Might as well take advantage of this fuzzy feeling, right? Do things you'd never admit to doing. He limbed back up to eye level with John, and kisses him slowly on the lips. John smiles, hot in the face.

"God you're fucking- fucking amazing."  
"Shut up, keep kissing me."


	4. You're So Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent adores his boyfriends body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place when they are more in their 20s!! Johns still a very hard working, sporty, political man, and they share an apartment together! Because fuck you thats why! ALSO YES, theres definitely more build up in this chapter than the others, so, porn with minor plot. shut the up.

Hours. It had been hours, but it felt like days. John got up early in the morning, kissed Vincent goodbye, and left to have a meet with the Clone State Debate Team. They competed and debated for hours, analyzing and critiquing each others performances. It was a hobby of his. He had texted Vincent, some time around three in the afternoon, that he would be going to the gym to work out. Vincent couldn't keep himself occupied enough.   
He tried baking- recently he had gotten into making Dutch pastries. That only kept him busy for a little while. He tried sketching, catching up on his college reading, wondering why the fuck statistics are so hard. Well, not hard, but tedious, he would say.  
Television wasn't any better. The TV stations in Exclamation! were very limited, sort of. There were cooking shows, basic news channels, maybe one or two kids channels. Everything was either educational, dramatized, or brain rotting. Vin didn't care for TV anyway.  
He pulls out his phone, and texts John,  
_"Are you coming home soon?"_  
No response, it isn't even seen. Johns probably too busy running a treadmill to _Eye of the Tiger_.

Suddenly, there is the sound of keys jingling. Vincent turns around on the couch, smiling wide,  
"Welcome home!"  
John smiles back, "Hey little thing."  
John looked... exhausted. His hair was stuck to his sweat-slicked forehead, his back slightly hunched. He's always such a hard worker.  
"I'm gonna take a uh, a shower, okay?"  
"What? I missed you so much, can't the shower wait, just a little bit?"  
The taller man walked over, placing his gym back down, and placed a kiss on Vincents cheek. Vin grimaced,  
"On second thought, take that shower."  
"That's what I thought."  
Vincent watched John make his way down the hall, stopping in the laundry room for a towel and moving to the bathroom. Next think he knew his was on his feet, walking from the living room to the corridor. With every step he took, it was like a new section of a plan was being made. Finding himself in front of the bathroom door, he announced himself, in a sort of panicked decision to avoid being suspicious, if caught.  
"I'm gonna take your dirty clothes to the laundry room, okay?"  
"Alright."  
Nothing weird about that. Just simple duties, loving actions done by boyfriends for boyfriends who love each other. It's never that innocent though, is it? Cracking the door open, Vincent slowly makes his way in. Ah, curse solid-colored plastic shower curtains. Today is just one disappointment after another. He swoops up the dirty laundry and begrudgingly takes it, throwing it into the dirt clothes hamper. Stupid curtains. Honestly, what had he been expecting? Magical x-ray vision? Blinded by his own thoughts to consider facts- no, this isn't a porno, Vincent.  
Stumbling into the bedroom, Vin throws himself onto the bed, kicking off his shoes and socks. Internally, he decided to lie and wait. What was only 15 minutes felt like an eternity, before John made his way into the warmth and comfort of the bedroom that he shared with his loving partner, a white towel wrapped around his waist. The dim light of the hallway illuminated every curve and dip of his toned back. Slowly, Vin sits himself up.

"Come lay down with me."  
"Can I- can I get dressed first?"  
"No."  
Oh. That was. Rather demanding. John walks away from the wardrobe, sitting on the edge of the bed, as Vin crawls on his knees across the mattress to turn on the lamp.  
"What's goin' on, flower?"  
"Mm. Nothing." A lie, told as he crawls back behind John, who is trying to turn his head to see what he's doing. John jolts as small, ice cold hands trail up his back, feeling his muscles.  
"You're such a hard worker, John..." Vincent whispers, pressing tiny kisses between his lovers shoulder blades. John starts to relax, finally, letting out a sweet sigh. He had spent all day with a pole up his ass, cross-firing with his team members, sticking to his strict gym routine. Every muscle, every tendon Vincent traced over, relaxed. It was like magic.  
"Ah, Vin..." An evil, conniving little giggle can be heard from behind him. It wasn't often Vincent found himself in a position of power, even if he was still on the bottom, he greatly enjoyed it.  
"Lay down, John, will you?"  
John complies without a moments hesitation, scooting back onto the bed, laying across it diagonally and completely disregarding his towel. Vin smiles at John, slowly inching his way to his boyfriends face, kissing his lips gently. The smaller mans soft lips trail down, platting kisses on his neck, his collar bone, his pecks, and giving special attention to his abs, kissing all the way down to his toned thighs, completely skipping over his pelvis. He can't help but chortle, hearing Johns breath hitch, and even whine in disappointment. Vin situates himself between Johns thighs, stretching his hands back up and down his wonderful, firm muscles, feeling him freely and happily.  
"You're so strong," Vincent whispers, bringing his hands back down to his hips, "you've been working _all day_ with no breaks. Let me treat you."  
"Fuck- V-Vin.."  
His thin hands wrap slowly around Johns cock, giving sweet little pecks to the tip, kissing up and down his length. He starts with kisses, moving to pumping so slowly. What's really good about Vincent is he is a determined man when it comes to practice- deep throating the first time wasn't exactly a walk in the park, but enough popsicles, toys and patience made it so much easier. Vincents goal was to feel Johns perfect body with both hands while pleasuring him.   
Slowly, Vincent wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, getting it slick with spit before bobbing his head, making his way further and further down his length. John is such a wonderful man, and is very gifted, physically and academically. After Vin feels like he's got a good motion in lock, he lets his hands rest back on Johns hips, moving up and down, occasionally squeezing his thighs. Every movement of his head left John breathless, grasping at the sheets, the pillows, the headboard, before settling on the ginger ropes of Vins hair.  
"Vin- Vince, ah fuck..." John murmurs, to which Vincent only hums in response, sending vibrations through his body. He pulls his mouth off with a _pop_ , using one hand to keep stroking.  
"You're so amazing, John- In so many ways." Vince hums with a smile, kissing the tip teasingly. "You're so strong, so muscular, you drive me crazy sometimes."  
"God, Vin, I'm close-"  
"Good. Come on John, relax for me."  
Johns breaths got heavier, more erratic, which told his lover now would be a good time to wrap his mouth back around him- for cleaning purposes. A few more pumps and that man was done for, filling Vincents mouth and throat, pulling his lovers hair as he reaches sweet bliss, finishing in that small, warm mouth, and Vincent doesn't let a drop go to waste. Vincent smiles as he feels his boyfriend completely relax underneath of him. With a warm smile, Vincent adjusts the sheets, pulling the blanket up and over the two of them.

"I should be gone more often."  
"No!!"


	5. Lonely Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John spends the night alone.
> 
> (solo masturbation, vivid imagination and talk of TUMMY BUMPS FROM TAKING BIG DICK alright here we go)

John was quiet, closing his bedroom door behind him. Everything about tonight had gone perfectly. Vincent dressed in nice, clean, non-cigarette-burnt clothes. This had been maybe the fifth date the two of them had gone on together since the second semester of senior year, and when the summer starts, the two of them can really start seeing each other, with no school in the way, no work, or detention, or sports. No art projects, or stressful tests. He locked his door behind him.  
There's a buzz from his back pocket. Rolling his shoulders back, he shrugs off his letterman's jacket, tossing it onto his computer chair. Theres a text from Vincent on his phone.

_"Thanks for the great night out. I had a lot of fun!"_  
John smiles at his phone and responds, _"me too :) i wanna see u again soon"_  
 _"Maybe we can do something special next time."_  
It was hardly anything. It was such a simple message, but still, his breath caught in his throat.  
 _"like what"_  
 _"Don't know, something alone. Guess we'll just have to find out!"_

His heart was on fire. John had received far more... blunt texts before. Vincent was so subtle, that the hints could easily go right over Johns head, but this felt so different. Why? It doesn't make any sense. How could such a well experienced man become so enamored with such a small, thin, awkward thing.

Vincent is amazing.  
John peeled his shirt off, letting it drop to the ground. His fingers and thumbs fumbled with the button on his jeans.

Vincent is... amazing.  
There was a sense of relief as he laid down, getting comfortable on the mattress, staring at the messages, holding his phone with his left hand, and the brim of his boxer with the right.

Something alone...  
The thought drove him wild, palming at himself through thin cloth. They had taken some pictures together. He felt like a pervert, moving to the photo album of his phone. The picture is just them together, Johns arm wrapped around Vincents shoulders. He's just so... small.

Something together...  
Johns hand slipped underneath the fabric, gently grabbing at his dick. The ego kicks in,

You could break him.  
God, not that he'd want to. He wants to be so kind, so gentle. His dick is hard in minutes. He's panting, staring at the pictures on his phone.

Such a pretty face...  
It'd be so nice to ruin it, make a mess of his hair, let it drip from his lips. Johns grip tightens, his fingers wrap around the base of his cock, pulling at it slowly, imagining the artists thin, soft hands instead of his own. So delicate, precise, and nimble. Johns a man with a high body count, and even higher stamina, but he felt like if he didn't pace himself he could finish now, and that'd just be embarrassing. He'd have to.. practice often.

John put the phone down on his stomach, focusing on the feeling of his cock, giving it nice, slow rubs, and imagining his boyfriend.  
"He'd think I'm so- hah- weird." He says as if it doesn't turn him on. He knows he's nasty, everyone knows that. Vin could insult him the whole time they fuck and he'd still cum. Thinking about Vin makes him feel so weak, and makes the pleasure he gets from touching himself twice as good.  
He's moaning, running his free hand through his styled hair, gasping for breath as his speed picks up. Fuck pacing himself. Just the thought of Vincent, of pulling his hair, biting his lips, made him feel like he was in heaven. As he kept stroking, he imagined himself, hovered over Vincent, and the smaller mans hips as leverage, slamming his thin frame onto Johns cock. He imagined the way Vinces small body would mold around him, squeezing him tightly, like his body wanted it more than John did.  
It was too much, the thought of leaving a bump in Vins stomach, of filling him to the brim-  
"Ah, fuck, Vinny-"  
John found himself gripping at his sheets, climaxing with Vincents name on his lips, covering his hand in thick, white cum.

He's gonna think about this every time he looks at that picture on his phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, so- I'm not used to writing from the perspective of a cool, suave hunk of a guy, actually it gets me really flustered, so, this chapter was more or less of an exercise for me. I have some requests I need to do still!!!! Those are still coming in, feel free to request any scenario you'd like!! There's a high chance I'll write it!!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


	6. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John loses a bet, and gets what he deserves for underestimating the quiet kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AMEN TO JOSHUA PLAZA FOR MAKING ME EXPLORE UNCHARTED TERRITORY!!! I love a good challenge!   
> Senior year of high school, public humiliation, and the mention of brains being fucked out in an attempt to regain dominance!

Three rounds. Best out of three wins. That was the agreement.

"What the FUCK man!" John yelled in disbelief, throwing the controller down and looking at his TV screen. Vincent had beaten John three times, consecutively, in a pvp game.  
"Sorry, John, remind me- what was the bet again?" Vincent asked with the smuggest little smile as if he didn't know, when he very well did. John sighed,  
"Loser has to do one thing the uh, the winner says."  
"That's right! Hm, let me think..." He had to act carefully. If he asked _one_ thing of John, John would take it and proclaim that that was the only thing he had to do. He's a sneaky man, sometimes. Vincent pushed himself up from the ground and walked to his right, standing in front of Johns closet. This activates the taller mans fight or flight.  
"Hey! What're you doin'?"  
"Sh, I'm looking for something."  
Vin opens the closet and pulls on a string hanging from the ceiling, which clicked on a light. John stood back nervously as Vincent scanned the scene, eventually coming across what looked like a large shoe box. His grin grew wider, snickering as he bent over and picked it up, shaking it around a bit. There are several things hidden in there. The ginger placed the box on Johns bed and opened it, revealing plenty of colorful toys, mostly those in reds and pinks. He turns back for a second and asks,  
"These are clean, right?", To which John replied in an offended manner,  
" _Of course_ they're clean!"  
"Just asking."

Man, there are plenty of treasures in here. One that caught his eye, though, was something that looked like an oversized Chapstick container, and a miniature remote control, both with matching logos. John, who was staring at Vincents back, jumped when there came three distinct buzzing noises, one louder than the other, before being buried in silence. 

"So, here's the deal."

A day later, John wakes up to a text, the sender labeled as _Vinny Boy_ , which read,  
 _"I'm excited for school today, aren't you?"_  
Vincent is teasing him. He could very easily say, no, he's not going to do it, but that goes against his code. There were just some things he didn't take into consideration. Things like Vin being good at video games, or having an obscure, dirty sense of humor. Laying in bed he can't decide if he doesn't wanna chicken out because of his pride, or because he actually wants to try this.

Vincent was more than delighted, sitting on a bench in the court yard of the high school, idly reading a book, when Johns sleek red car pulls up to a park. Vins hand shoots to his pocket, grabbing the small remote, and decided to test it's wireless abilities. John was maybe a foot 100 feet away. He clicked- nothing. 50 feet, click, nothing. 25- John drops his book bag to the ground. Vins knees shot up to his chest, covering his mouth in a feeble attempt to hide his giggling. He shoots up to his feet, dashing to John, who was resting with his hands on his thighs.  
"You okay, Jack? You look so tired! What's wrong?"  
John sneered, "You are- are so on my shit list."

To Johns luck, however, he only had a lunch period and two classes with Vincent, one of which being gym, meaning the fucker had no where to hide the remote on him, and it would have to stay in the locker room. That was like a sweet breath of relief. Lunch took place just before gym did. The gym shorts showed his knees, which were red and starting to bruise. Vincent clicked the remote on three times during lunch, each time sending a jolt of hidden pleasure that only lasted a second, surprising his body, and slamming his knees against the under side of the table.  
For the most part, John was able to blame his less-than-average performance on a muscle cramp. He was starting to get agitated, really. He still had to at least minorly participate in some of the activities. Sit ups forced him to sit on the vibrator, letting it fake a sort of thrust each time his elbows reached his banged up knees. You can also blame spontaneous moaning on muscle cramps too, if you try hard enough. And all the while, Vincent is staring, grabbing glances whenever he can. Others are completely unaware, but there really is something so excited about knowing what the truth actually is- what those huffs are from, why he can't do any stretches, why he's so red in the face and sweating despite having done little to nothing in class. It kinda gives Vin a sense of power he's not all that used to feeling.

The last period was history, which was a different kind of blessing. All John does in that class anyway is sleep, usually, but now there's the ever impending threat of Vincent pulling a fast one. It was... Surprisingly calm though. There was a substitute for the class, which meant that the entirety of this time would be spent watching some movie nobody knows the name of. After turning his head around a couple of times, John noticed that Vincent looked uninterested. He was busy sketching in a book, kneels pulled to his chest, eyes locked on the paper, not even concerned with the bet they had made the night prior. Eventually, John too became unassuming, adjusting awkwardly, looking at the movie with his face in his hands, starting to doze off.  
With a sigh, Vincent put his pencil bag down and stood up to go empty his sharpener. When he rose, there was a click, something below his feet, but it was too dark to see what it was. Then there's the sound of hands slamming against a desk. John looks back and Vincent isn't even in his seat, he's at the garbage can, holding something more round than rectang- oh god, fuck- it's not stopping. It won't turn off. John claps his hand over his mouth, looking around the room for any suspicious eyes- there are none. He's trying so hard to be quiet, adjusting and readjusting in his seat. He's sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. He can't pull any attention to himself.  
Fuck, it's such a new feeling. He's never explored with this before. He's only recently come to terms with the fact that he likes men as well as women, and the toys he had were foreplay strictly for partners, he never once considered he'd actually enjoy this! Vincent looks over from his seat, and sees John with his forehead against the desk, his shoulders rising and falling with every heavy breath. His entire body was shaking. Vin quickly pat his pockets, and realized that, oh fuck, the remotes not there. Johns hips slowly start to roll on the chair, hardly noticeable in the dark room as Vincent drops to the floor, patting around frantically to find the lost remote. John grunts, toes curling in his shoes- he can't tell if he's silently begging for him to turn it off, or if he doesn't want it turned off at all. It's so brand new- anyone could notice at any time, if someone even looked at him for longer than ten seconds, they would be able to tell something- things, were up. At this point, he felt like he was so close, he was so warm, he just wanted to cum and get it over with. His hands rush into his thick, brown hair when it cuts off. He has 30 seconds to catch his breath, and then the bell rings. Students move so fast out of there seats, completely unaware of what was happening, and god, what a blessing that was. Vincent rushed over to him, giggling like a fucking idiot,  
"Christ, John, I'm so sorry!" but John was still busy catching his breath, "Come on, let's get you out of here."  
He took a couple more deep breaths, looked at Vin, and said in a hushed growl,

"I'm so gonna fuck you up when we get home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have English homework I should be doing.


	7. Gremlin Gets The Talking Stick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the tables turn and John is left defenseless.  
> ((Mild bondage, dirty talk, Vincent being an evil little imp of a man))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this WASN'T my original plan- At first I was going to write a gang bang chapter titled "passed around" but I got nervous because...... hoo.... hoo boy. If thats something you guys want lmk
> 
> Anyway a friend reminded me of a comment about Vincent overpowering John, and Vincent has always been a power bottom in my mind so, YES, this is what I'm doing. Hee hoo enjoy.

"You couldn't."  
"I could."  
"You're too little!"  
Now he's fucked up.

What was a late night half-naked cuddle was now Vincent wrapping a thick piece of fabric around Johns eyes, his hands moving quickly to the bigger mans wrists binding them nice and tight like it's all his fingers had ever known. John was admittedly surprised with how quickly Vincent could tie his hands together.

"How'd you learn this?" John asked blindly, trying to snap his wrists away from each other, lackadaisically. Vincent chortles,  
"High school taught me a lot of things."  
"How did high school teach- teach you _bondage?_ "   
Vincent sighed dramatically, his fingers hooking onto the brim of Johns plaid pajama pants, "Does it matter?"  
"I think so!"  
"I think you're scared!" the ginger giggled, sliding his lovers pants down slowly, leaving sweet kisses down his lovely happy trail. John gasps,  
"No I'm- I'm-" but he's only cut off by Vincents mischievous giggling.

All John could hear was the slow ruffling of fabric hitting the ground, and the feeling of soft, milky skin straddling his sides.

"I don't need to tie up your legs do I?" Vinny hummed carelessly, caressing Johns cheek, "You're not gonna kick me, are you?"  
"Uh, no, I'm not."  
"So you're gonna be a _good_ dog for me then?"   
Johns body twitched in response, as Vin grabbed his chin, placing firm kisses on his jawline. Vin frowns at the silence, running his thumb over Johns bottom lip. John snapped his teeth at his thumb, playfully.

"Ah!" Vincent said, grabbing Johns face roughly with one hand, the other resting down on his muscled chest. "That was awfully mean of you, nasty dog!"  
"Ah, Vin babe, I was only jokin'-"  
"Quiet." he demanded, shoving two of his fingers into Johns mouth, "Dogs don't talk." He giggled in surprise at how easily John just took it, instantly letting his mouth hang open for Vincent, baring his tongue and teeth for him to play with. Vincent pushed his two fingers down against Johns wet tongue, sliding them down on either side. He could feel John struggling to move underneath him.

Vinny turned his head, peering over his shoulder to see Johns cock, twitching and begging for friction. Man, what an ego boost!  
"You like that, don't you?" he said, the smile on his face growing ever wider, a small giggle erupting through his throat, pulling Johns cheek to reveal his teeth,   
**"You're so fucking gross!"**

John let out a whine so pathetic it was physically exhilarating. Vincent snorted,

"Was that you!?" he laughed, removing his spit soaked fingers and leaning over to the nightstand, opening the top drawer and shuffling around. Vincent shuffles a bit, getting lower between Johns legs. Then, there's the popping sound of a cap unclasping. Suddenly his cock is attacked with thick, cold gel dripping slowly over the head and down over the shaft. Johns knees bolt, pressing the soles of his feet to the cool red sheets beneath them.

"God, that was quite the reaction!" Vincent giggled, slowly gripping Johns length with a light squeeze, twisting his hands around the base and up the shaft, evenly spreading the cool water-based lubricant.

He signed, resting his head on Johns thigh, stroking lazily. John let out a low, sort of frustrated moan.  
"Come on, Vin, how much uh- much longer are you gonna keep me here?"

Vincent gave him a good squeeze before letting him go completely, the warmth of his hands soon dissipating with the cold air.   
"Fucking dog." He spat, throwing his legs over his hips again, the spit and lubricant soaked hand going for Johns throat. John squirmed underneath him. John had never had an experience like this, with Vincent being so rough and mean to him. Vincent squeezed at the thumb and forefinger, bringing himself up to his knees to whisper delicately in his lovers ear.

"You remember. Just spell it out for me. S. T. O. P. Got it?"

John nodded feverishly while his smaller partner slid his hips back slowly, carefully aligning the slick cock with his hole.

"Good little whore."

There was a lot of things driving John up the wall. The way Vincent so could say these nasty things to him, this submissive mess of a man, belittling and berating John, paired with the way he so effortlessly takes his cock, how warm and smooth he is. Johns fingers flex, aching to run his hands through Vincents perfect ginger hair. He wants to grab him, throw him against the bed, and fuck into his cute little body, but for now, he's helpless.

"Yeah, that's what you are," Vinny takes Johns hands and lifts them up and over his head, letting them rest on the back of his neck. The smile never leaves his little freckled face, his small hands gripping tightly onto Johns shoulders, situating himself on top, fitting perfectly like a lock and key. "You're a good whore, aren't you?"

There was little to no protest, besides a low grunt, and the slow rolling of his hips.

"Quit moving. You're so fucking needy." Vincent says with feigning anger, his nails digging into Johns shoulder, earning a hiss from his lips. Slowly, Vincent starts to move, using his knees and hips to lift himself up, and slowly drop himself back down. John could hear Vincents breath start to shake, he could feel his legs trembling. He can't help but smile a bit at how fragile Vincent feels, despite being so dominating.

Vinnys hands slid down to Johns chest, closing his eyes, relishing in the pleasure. He snickers to himself,

"You make such a good toy, hah-" he pants, taking a deep breath, "letting me use you for my own pleasure, like there's no other purpose for you other than for me to have."

John groaned, whined almost, rolling his head back and leaning it against the headboard. Vincent muttered a _so good,_ slowly picking up the speed. With his yes closed he could imagine he was just alone, enjoying himself, indulging in whatever fantasy he so desired. Unfortunately, toys are no where near as warm and thick and _delightful_ as John is, so this is much more enjoyable than any night alone could ever be.

It isn't a regular occurrence, except for long nights, that Vincent would say such damning things. "I can feel you," He whispered, clearly focusing on the feeling of Johns cock twitching and throbbing inside of him.

"Come on, Johnny, fill me up," Vincent panted, dainty hands moving back to Johns exposed throat, "I know that's what you want pervert- fuck- cum in me!"

Johns breath caught in his throat, unable to keep himself still due to the encroaching bliss that he so painfully craved, hips bucking up into his boyfriend, not leaving a single request unfulfilled. 

They were a mess. Vincent leaned forward slowly, kissing John sweetly on the lips, reaching behind him and taking off the blindfold. It was a sight for sore eyes. Vin parted, making and keeping eye contact with him as he slowly raised himself up, a dripping, gooey mess in Johns lap.

"Let me see your hands."

John put them out in front of him without hesitation as Vincent started working on the knot.

"Too little, huh? You can talk now, idiot."  
"I need t'stop underestimatin' you..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *YELLS* ALRIGHT SEE YA NEXT TIME FOLKS


	8. Party Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent is encouraged to share the goods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ask and ye shall receive. I was nervous about doing the gang bang piece but hEE HOO HERE WE ARE.  
> ((gangbang, b... bukkake...., im nervous these are big kinks of mine, sweet talk, rough sex, vin is nervous but clearly consents.))

"Man, my friends would love you."

Vincents breath catches in his throat, his body tensing around his lover.

"Oh, you like that idea, huh?"

...

It's a week later. John had taken extreme interest in Vincents fantasy.

"They're not- not going to think anything... bad of me, right?"  
"Vin, baby, I told you, these guys are very ca- casual about this kinda thing. Sex ain't nothin' more than an activity, they're not gonna hold it above your head or nothin'."  
"I know- I know, I'm just-"  
"I know you are. You remember the word, alright? Spell it out for me 'n I'll call it off. We can just watch some movies instead!"

Vincent smiled, happy that John was so kind and understanding. Then there was a knock at their apartment door. John stood from his place on the couch, clapping his hands together. Previously, Johns friends and Vincent had never met until this point. John, over the span of the week, had let the guys know that there was interest, and if they were up to it to ask for more details.

Three people walked though the door.

Three tall, well built athletes, with the intent of getting to know Vincent personally, are now just feet from him. He couldn't recognize them, Vin never really cared for sports or any important sport figures, for that matter, and they all looked like they only had a vague idea of who he was.

"This is my boyfriend, Vinnie, the star of the party," John said with a wide smile, gesturing to the nervous, smaller man, who sat fiddling with his hands on the couch.

"Guy looks kind of shaky. You alright little thing?"  
"He's fine, promise! He'll let me know when he isn't."  
"'S that true cutie?"

Vincents teeth clenched, he almost felt too nervous to speak. Instead, he shook his head, trying to indicated yes, wordlessly, so he didn't have to hear himself sounding so pathetic. Another one of the guys speak up, resting his big hands on Vincents shoulders from behind the couch.

"You gotta talk while you still can. I wanna hear it. You really want to do this?"

The touch alone sent shock waves through his small body. Vince took a deep breath, trying to gather himself. "Y- um, yeah,"  
"Yeah what?"  
God. "I want- I want to um..."  
"Ah that's good enough for me."

John walks around the couch, his friends following in suit. "Why don't we show them what they're in for, huh?" he asked sweetly, ushering Vincent to stand up. The red head rises, and when he does, Johns hands quickly turn him to face his four friends, his hands sliding up his blue jumper, bringing it up and over his head, revealing his thin, practically hairless body.

"He's real sweet," John hums, dropping the jumper to the floor, and resting his hands on his lovers hips. "Real easy to work up, too."  
With his thumbs hooked on the waist band of Vincents pants, he slowly starts to bring them down, leaving Vin cold and in his yellow briefs, adding truth to Johns latter statement. He is _really_ easy to work up. He doesn't mean to be, it's just not used to these kinds of things, and the moment he does get used to something, John always surprises him with something new.

The boys crowd Vincent, towering over him, which isn't hard when you're below the average height for a male. They all coo at him, giving compliments on how small and frail he looks. Each one takes a position, somewhere around him, in whatever way they can to lay their hands on him, on his pale frame. Johns hands slide back up to his hips, another pair of hands rest of his chest, teasing and tweaking his nipples. A third pair plays with his hair, his jaw, grabbing his face, forcing direct eye contact, and a fourth grabbing at him between his legs, making him shake and squeak.

So many hands, covering his body, once nearly shivering with cold now filled with warmth, Vincents cheeks bright red with embarrassment and need. The hands at his jaw force his mouth open. The man laughs,

"So fuckin' cute. You think you could fit this big dick in your mouth?"  
Vincent choked on his words, finding it nearly impossible for him to reply. He lets his tongue lull out of his mouth, pretty pink and glistening.  
"Still can't talk, huh? I'll give you a reason to be quiet."

The man pulled on Vincents red hair, dragging him to the couch and forcing him on the ground, knees hitting the soft carpet. Before he knew it his face was shoved into this absolute strangers crotch, his wet tongue soaking the denim. He could feel the mans cock hardening against his face. Someone, he can't tell who, slips behind him and starts slowly removing his briefs. Several pairs of rough, calloused hands run up and down his back, squeezing his ass and forcing his legs apart, leaving him completely exposed.

There's the sound of a cap opening, and the wheeze of a bottle. Vincent tries to move his head to turn and look, but the man in front of him forces his attention back on his jeans.

"Don't worry about them, alright, worry about this."

Vincent watches as the man in front of him unbuttons his jeans, sliding them down just enough to let his cock spring out, as if it were giving a sigh of relief. His hands reach up, resting themselves on the mans hips, as he lightly smacks Vins face with his cock. There's whispering behind him, but he can hardly hear it over the sound of his heart beating in his ears. Vinnies hand grip the base of the stranger in front of him, slowly, hesitantly, wrapping his lips against the head. He had never been with anyone but John, and found it strange the way it felt. It almost even tasted different.

"Try him out for us, show us how he likes it!"

Suddenly there's something cold and wet pushing into him from behind. John wiggles a single, slicked finger into him, chuckling lowly. His hands are so gentle and kind on him- he can tell John apart from any of the other guys, blindfolded. Vin lifted his head up, gasping as another finger slips into him, twisting and stretching him.

John leans against Vincents back, whispering nicely to him, "You're doin' so good, baby. They're gonna love you."

_"Don't ignore it."_

Vins agape mouth is shoved back down onto the stiff cock in front of him, the strange man whos name he hasn't even caught entangling his long fingers in his hair. Vincent chokes and gags around it, out of surprise rather than inexperience. He can hear John groan from behind him, replacing his fingers with his perfect dick. It was a domino affect. The slow rutting of hips made him moan around the jock, sending sweet vibrations through the head and down the shaft. It didn't take long for John to pick up the pace, every thrust sending him further onto his friends dick, gagging and drooling. Vincent put his hands out on the mans thighs, desperate to find some sort of support. A few more thrusts in and people started to rotate, a pattern of filling his throat and tight ass just to leave him empty and whining.

The things he would hear them say ever exhilarating. They spoke so kindly to him as they broke him down to bare bones, telling him how good he looked on all fours, with his hair a mess. That his skin was so soft and his body was so delicious. The way his eyes would well up with tears from stretching his throat, and they'd wipe them away and tell him _you're too pretty to cry_.

After a certain number of rotations, Vincent is forced to sit up, hips slamming down against John as the he held Vins light body against his.

"Get those hands up, puppy." John whispered, nibbling on his right ear.

The minute Vins hands were in the air, they were filled. Both hands were wrapped around two different men, and a third with his pelvis to his face. Vinny was never the best at multitasking, he'd always get distracted by one thing or another. As for right now, he couldn't help but be enthralled with the way John snapped into him, using his hips as leverage. His hands stuttered around the throbbing cocks, failing to pump at a regular pace. The man in front of him didn't need anything from Vin, no movement necessary, just a fist full of that soft ginger hair and the bucking of his hips into that hot wet mouth.

He was surrounded on all sides by men who wanted nothing more than his attention. Men who resulted to using his hands like they were toys, made only to please them. Vin could feel the room around him starting to spin, lightheaded from the sweet touch and fuck, sensitive and edged from the constant starting and stopping. Through the fuzziness he could hear them moaning, chanting praises, every word that spilled from there mouths was filled with love

"I'm so close,"  
"You're doing such a good job,"  
"Wanna ruin that pretty face,"  
_"They love you, Vin."_  
Holy shit, it feels so good. He feels almost blinded by the hot white pleasure coursing through him, finally being able to finish. Johns arms wrap around him, holding his body as it grew heavier.

"Come on, hold on for me Vinnie, we're- hah, almost there. Hold on baby."

John snakes a hand up to Vins jaw, forcing it to stay open, and says, "He's begging for it guys, don't you think he deserves a treat?"

"Stick that tongue out, boy."

He feels almost like a robot, a zombie, sticking his tongue out with his eyes closed, panting, being propped up by his boyfriend still balls deep inside of him, while the others get closer to his face, stroking their cocks and pressing their heads against his cheeks, his lips, his tongue. Eventually, one after the other, they came, finishing on Vincents soft pink tongue. Ropes of semen sticking to his chin, the corner of his mouth, onto his forehead, and even John following suit, filling him up to the brim.

"God- that's such a good- yuck!"

John pulled his hand away from Vins face, shaking off the cum. "Gross, man!"

"Come on, Jack, lets get this guy on the couch."  
"You guys wanna watch any movies? I'm thinking back to the future."  
"I'll get a towel and a couple of blankets from the bedroom." John smiled as the others lifted Vincent from the floor and onto the couch. Yeah, a towel or two would have been helpful to start with.

Vincent had his shirt put back on him, but clothing wise, that was it. John helped clean him up, placing a towel under him and wrapping a blanket over his shoulders, the rest of the night being spent with Vincent sleeping on the couch, leaning on John while the other guys watched movies and made playful jokes.

He's gonna be so fucking sore in the morning. And pissed about the carpet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIUCUKING OKAY this i think was BY FAR the longest chapter I ever wrote. Personally I like how I make things that are nasty sound so sweet and soft ;w; I hope you guys enjoyed this!!! It was an adventure for me to write!!! Remember I'm always taking requests <3 buhbye!!


	9. Smile For the Camera

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Vincent is all dolled up for the camera.  
> ((Picture taking, feminization, embarrassment kink that I'm self-indulging in, overstimulation, mind break that I am ALSO self-indulging in.))

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GOD BLESS MY FRIEND WHO GAVE ME THIS IDEA THIS MORNING.

*Click!*

It's always something new. The sex life of a relationship with John Kennedy isn't exactly one that dies out easily. Vincent likes to consider himself an experimental man. There's no harm in trying everything at least once, right? And possibly, trying them over, and over, and over again.

It was Johns idea. Maybe a week ago, he had been showing Vincent some items on Amazon that he would really like him to try. _"You'd be such a cute little model for me,"_ he said. Vincent entertained the idea. And why not? It looked comfy enough,

And it was. Vincent sat on the edge of the bed, knees locked tightly together, rubbing his thighs together nervously, listening to the shifting of soft, sheer, white fabric. His legs were clad in white thigh highs with the prettiest satin bows, and around his waist, flowing delicately past his hips was a cinched, baby blue skirt. Around his neck was a white, lacy choker, fitted so comfortably he could almost forget it was there.

*Click!*

"Smile, pretty boy, come on, look at me."

Vincent couldn't bring himself to look up at his boyfriend, or at the lens of his phone which periodically snapped pictures at different angles. John thought looking at Vincent was like looking at an angel- so soft, pale, shy. So innocent, despite his hardon peaking through his skirt and the revealing nature of his outfit- if you could call socks, a skirt, and a choker an outfit, that is.

John looked at his phone, tapping the recently taken pictures and swiping through them slowly. "Man," he laughed, "I'm gonna fuck your absolute brains out."

The smaller man jumped when John tossed his phone onto the bed. John grabbed his face, feeling the slight ginger stubble on his chin. "What's wrong, pretty boy? You uh, don't like the outfit?"

"I didn't say that!"  
"You haven't said anything."

Vin tries to look away, but Johns grip on his face is firm. Goodness, his hands are so big, so strong.

"That's okay, Vinny baby." John coos with a smile, planting his right hand between his lovers legs. "You don't gotta tell me how much you like it. I can see it riiight here."

He shuddered, fingers digging into the sheets below them. Johns hand slid up underneath the pale blue skirt, palming at Vincents warm little cock through the lacy white panties, which were ever so adorable on him. "Lay back, baby," he'd whisper in that thick Bostonian accent. Fuck, everything about John was perfect. He had Vincent wrapped around every little finger. Not just metaphorically, either. His head sunk low as Vincents bare back hit the cold sheets. John hooked his lovers legs over his shoulders, smiling, kissing up his pale, warm thighs to the hem of his panties. Taking his middle and forefinger, John pulled the thin fabric to the side- God, this little man is so cute. All primed and shaved, not an inch left forgotten by his nimble hands. John giggled, pressing kisses closer and closer to his little hole, before slowly pressing his warm tongue against him, drinking in every reaction Vincent makes.

Every little tap of the sheets, or the heavy sighs of bliss. The way the sheets shift with the weight of his head lulling left and right. Vincents impulses scream to close his legs, but they stay locked in place over his boyfriend broad shoulders as he licks and laps at the ring of muscles, pulling Vinces hips tight to his face. This is probably the most interest John has shown in eating him out, which, he's done before, but not so ravenously as now. And it feels so good, too, like Johns starving and Vin is the first homecooked meal he's seen in weeks. Spoiled. John has him absolutely spoiled. Maybe it can be seen the other way around, too. Maybe Vincent spoils John with his body, with his temper, with his quirks and giggle-snort type laugh, with his small hands and blue eyes. And John absolutely spoils Vin. Showers him in love, in attention, in cash. The way his hands feel so euphoric against Vincents body, or how easily he finds himself trapped in his gaze, with those beautiful brown doe eyes. John is everything a man could ever want to be. 

Maybe Vincent is so entranced with the thought that John is cut from the same cloth as the Lord himself that it isn't until a third finger struggles to push its way in that he realizes John has moved from one performance to another. Each digit twists and wiggles in a way that feels so strange, caressing his insides, poking and prodding, looking for a sweet spot. Which, with enough exploration, is found. 

It was like someone slammed the emergency alarm inside his entire body, like hot love was rushing through his veins, through his stomach, clouding his mind.

"Fuck- Fuck!" Vincent didn't mean to slam his arm onto the bed- it was reactionary. John clearly enjoys it, resting his head against Vincents soft thigh.  
"Yeah, I've been doin' my homework. I found that fuckin, uh, thing you were talkin' about!"

Vin almost snorts- John can be such a dork sometimes, but his mean, bully-like thoughts are interrupted by John slamming his fingers back in. Vincent yelps and arches his back. John laughs, watching Vince squirm as he moves closer, fingers still knuckle deep in his tight, flexing hole.

"You're such a cute little doll," John laughs, pulling his fingers up and down, dragging Vins body with it while he whines in a sort of pain-filled-pleasure. "I'm gonna really enjoy fuckin' this cunt."

C- ah- Cunt? Oh my-

Johns quick to remove his fingers, and in the soft cloud of disappointment and yearning he doesn't realize the time that John spent liberally coating his stiff cock in slick lube. He hummed, lazily pulling Vincents cute panties down, the pair left hanging around one of his thin, bony ankles. Ideally, not a single article of clothing would be removed. John would love nothing more than to watch Vincent ruin his brand new outfit, over, and over, and over again, soaking the panties in liquid sex. Ah, well, there's always next time!

John hikes Vincents pretty skirt up, the blue cotton fabric lying against the stomach. He groans, lowly, taking in the sight in front of him. Vincent's all sprawled out, waiting, needing, his eyes droopy, his very expression screamed, God, please fuck me already. John couldn't help as smile at him, crawling over top of his small, shivering body.

"You're fuckin' precious, baby." Joh whispered, kissing Vincents right ear lightly, tucking his lips underneath his jaw, to his chin and down his throat. "Wanna bruise you all over."

The words, the soft biting and sucking, was incredible. Vincent found himself gasping, wrapping his arms around his man, small hands resting delicately in his thick, brown hair as Johns lips maneuvered around the collar, sucking and biting for what felt like seconds but was likely mere minutes, leaving the prettiest purple marks and patterns of teeth across his milky neck, down his collar bone. John loved every inch of this little guy. Every centimeter of skin, every thin, golden hair on his body. He found himself rutting against Vincents thigh like a dog, slowly grinding his hips into him as his lips attached to the soft pink nipples, running his tongue around the rosy buds, before playfully biting at them. And Vin would swoon and coo,

"John, please-"  
"Please what, baby?"  
"Please, please, please..."

Vincent kept whimpering, never once specifying what he wants to John. "You gotta tell me what you uh, what you want baby boy. Or I can't give anything to you."  
"I want- I want to- to feel... um."  
"Y'want this cock, right?"  
He turned his head away, like he could hide himself from the embarrassment he felt. "M- mhm.."

And John would smile, peeling himself off of his lovers small frame, moving back between his legs. John rested his right hand on Vinnys stomach, the other wrapping around one of his legs, spreading him nice and wide for his waiting cock. Vincent felt fireworks shoot off in his head and chest every single time John pushed into him for the first time. It was like the 4th of July each time, no matter how frequently he would be filled, it was still as magical as the first. His small hands gripped at the sheets as John forced him into position on his side, one leg over his shoulder, so he could get nice and deep in his sweet hole.

John would sigh, pushing in so slow, all the way to the base, making Vincent take every inch of him. "You okay?"  
"Mhm..."  
"Feel good?"  
"God, yes.."

Part of him wondered how quickly he could turn Vincent into a sputtering, moaning mess. He grinned, leaning his hips back and forth carefully. Probably not very long if he plays his cards right. The slow, deliberate ruts start to speed up. his fingers digging into Vins flesh, leaving nice red marks on his hip and thigh. John started to snap against him, so terribly pleased with the sound of skin hitting skin, the wet sloppy noises from the lube as he slammed in and out like John was taking his anger out on him.

That would happen sometimes- Not in a violent way. Sometimes John would come home from the gym, or class, pent up with aggression and energy. Vincent would so innocently ask what he could do to help him feel better, and would all too often find himself bent over the nearest flat surface, getting fucked into like he was trapped by a wild animal. It was probably after the second time that Vincent started to recognize the pattern, that he started dressing less and less whenever he waited for John to come back home, just in case he needed his help. Vin would ask with big, wide eyes, and couldn't hold his smile when John would push him against the kitchen counter. 

Johns hand wrapped around Vincents dick, pumping it at a strangely slow pace compared to how he was moving his hips. He could hear VIncents breath growing heavier, the stimulation, the love pooling in his stomach. Vincent arched his back, humming and whining,

"God- Jack, I'm gonna,"  
"No the fuck you're not."

And back to square one. John ripped himself away from Vincents body, leaving him unsatisfied, the fire in his stomach dying out. 

"Fuck- John, no, please!"  
"Don't touch yourself either. I wanna drag this out for a little bit." John hummed, rubbing Vincents thighs and caressing up his dick.

By the second time around, Vincent could hardly contain himself. John was moving so slowly, it was stimulating but fuck, it wasn't enough.

"God this boy cunt feels so good."  
"Fuck- John! Please go faster, please,"  
"You gonna beg for it, girlie?"  
He sucked in a deep breath, shivering around him, giving in. "J-John," he stuttered, weakly, "please, please fuck me harder. I really want to cum, please.."  
"Louder, bitch boy!" John jeered.   
"Please! Please make me cum, Jack!"

Well, you get what you wish for, don't you? John was certainly more than happy to oblige, stuffing Vincent back up with his thick cock, stroking him wildly. Vincent is absolutely star struck, to say the least. "Fuck, yes, thank you, thank you, thank you," He was like a broken record, sputtering out thanks and praises, showing his gratitude for Johns never ending curtesy. "Yes, please, just like that," he whined, "I'm so close!"

So close, as if Vincent finishing would signal the end of the interaction. Yeah. Not by a longshot. John would keep slamming into this ring of muscles, which flexed and tightened around him more and more, clamping down so tightly like Vincent never wanted him to leave. And he wouldn't. Vins first orgasm was earth shattering, spraying onto his stomach and skirt, dripping onto the bed, but John didn't let up. Not a bit. He kept his pace, jacking Vincent off with a firm grip, his hips still eagerly attacking the other, ramming into him with such delight.

Vincent curled and shook. His whole body was on fire, being worked on continuously, even after reaching his orgasm. "Fuck! It's too- ha! It's too much!"  
"Hold on for me pretty boy. Don't you want me to feel good too?" John smiled. With the constant wiggling, John would eventually have to hold Vincent down, moving him back onto his back, both legs up and over his shoulders again. "If you want me to stop, tell me!"

All he got in return were senseless moans. Vincent didn't want him to stop. It was torture, but God, it was heavenly. Like his body was filling with liquid gold, like starts were exploding inside his head. John smiled, wrapping his hands around Vincents tiny waist and fucking into him, slamming him on his cock like he was a sex toy. No artificial ass could ever be as good or moan as pretty as Vincent, though. 

"I know you want it,"  
"Yes, yes! Fi- Fill me- ha!"  
"That's right, keep fuckin' talkin' like that pretty boy. You're a mess."  
"Fucking fill me John! John! I want your c- ah... ha!"

Hearing his name on his lips was sweeter than sugar and far more addicting than cocaine.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck, oh my god, ha!"

Vincent came for the second time, soaking his skirt, dripping Johns hand, on the bed. Johns thrusts got sloppier, his hips starting to stutter as he got closer and closer himself.

"I'm almost there Vinny baby, shit, keep goin' for me."

It started to get a bit painful. Tears welled in Vincents eyes, his dick so sore, but he wanted nothing more then to make John happy, and for John, he would keep his legs wide open. The bucking became more frantic, more wild, before John finally filled Vincents ass, slamming into him a final time and resting there, panting. Vincent was... Not entirely there. His eyes were open, he was awake, breathing, and he reacted when suddenly Johns cameras flash turned on.

There was a *ding*, 

"There he is." John laughed, pointing the camera at Vincents drooling face, getting a good shot of it before moving down to the rest of his body. "All fucked out and filled up." He smiled, getting a good shot of him pulling out of Vincent, a stream of thick cum following suit. The camera was back in Vinces face. 

"Fucked his brains out, as promised. Not a thought behind those eyes."


	10. Lonely Nights 2, Tokyo Drift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort of part two to the last Lonely Nights, in which Vincent belittles himself for letting John keep him up on a school night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAA I disappeared for a while there what the fuck is up kyle. This is kinda short!!!!!! Sorry!!!!  
> ((Pillow humping, solo masturbating, self-belittling, he's literally so fucking embarrassed of himself.))

It's two in the god damn morning. No matter how much he twists and turns, Vincent just can't get comfortable. It's like there's a knot in every single one of his joints. Vincents teeth grinded together, peeved at the thought that he hasn't gotten a single solitary moment of sleep, and on a school night, no less.

"God dammit."

The springs of his mattress squeaked as he threw the blankets off of him, bare legs thrown over the side of the bed. His feet planted flat on the ground of his dark room, the only light shining in came from the window, between slightly parted curtains. In his closet was a sweater that John never took home with him, that one time he had stayed over to get a science project done in one night. It was... Eventful. The two of them managed to complete what they needed for the minimum requirements. John was really sweet the entire time. They took turns putting on music that they liked, which in a way was vulnerable of the both of them. John hogged the bed while they slept, but Vin couldn't mind it even if he wanted to.

He eyed the sweater, clad around the wire hanger in his closet. It's just cold, Vincent thought. That's why he's pulling it off the hanger. It's cold, and the sweater is comfortable- warm- maybe it would help him fall asleep. He would come up with every excuse possible to avoid admitting to himself that he just missed John. He couldn't possibly allow that, couldn't possibly allow himself to indulge.

Vincent peeled off his shirt and slipped on the red and white striped jumper, crawling back into his bed. He noticed, as he took a couple of slow, deep breaths, that it still smelled exactly like him. Like warm vanilla, and old spice; like the very essence of fall. It was intoxicating. Vincent closed his eyes, his hands gripping at the collar of the shirt and bringing it closer to his face, breathing him in like he was the last bit of weed left in the bowl.

"God, you fucking weirdo!" Vincent groaned, annoyed, through his teeth, "Just go to bed! Sleep! Stop!"

Even with his face pushed into the pillow, he could still smell John, so close, just as if he were right on top of him.

Right on top of him...

Maybe his soft lips would rest on his cheek, his neck...

Kissing him, nibbling at the skin...

"Christ."

Vincent shoved the pillow between his legs, his knees clamping together, holding it tightly against his body.

"It's nothing. It means nothing, I just.. need to go to sleep."

Just need to sleep.

That was the excuse he gave himself as his legs would wrap around the pillow, creating slow, soft friction against his hips. He was just trying to get comfortable. Vincent shuddered- It was like every twitch, every little rut, was a crime against god. Like he was embarrassing himself. It was Johns fault anyway- he's aware he's a charmer. He knows the effects he has on people, including Vincent.

They had just been hanging out a bit- they were playful with each other. John knew the way Vincents heart throbbed while they laid in the same bed, how his face would light up cherry red whenever he would lean over him, casting a shadow over his glossy blue eyes that twinkled at the very sight of him. If anything they were just... Experimenting. Flirting on and off like it meant absolutely nothing, and maybe it didn't. In fact, John could simply be doing all this- being kind to him and pretending to like Vincent, just to get a rise out of him.

But then there was also the possibility of that not being the case at all. Vincents breath grew heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his hips. This was frustrating. Antagonizing. And now that he was hard, there was no way he would be able to go to bed. Which is fine, maybe. Maybe that's what he needs, something to help him unwind and relax.

Vincent sat up, wiggling himself out of his briefs and kicking them off the bed. He shifted, facing the headboard, on his knees with his hands planted in front of him. He huffed, thinking for a second. It's... too cold to take the sweater off. He doesn't want to get it dirty, though, so he can't lean back and... take care of it. His breath was shaky as he readjusted himself again. A pillow under his hips, and one for him to rest his head on, if he can't hold himself up anymore.

His hands grasped at the pillow underneath him. Looking down, he could see his dick poking out from underneath the shirt, draped in the warm cloth. Vincent shuddered, the corners of his lips twisting in delight.

"This is so wrong." Vincent whispered, hunching himself over with his hips against the pillow. His face heated up, a moan catching in his throat as he rutted forward. He could feel himself dragging against the soft fabric of the pillowcase, which was cool against his skin. "This is the worst- ah-!"

Vin brought his hand to his mouth, covering it desperately. He didn't want to wake up his mom- god, he just wanted to sleep. Maybe not as much as he wanted to get off, at this point. It's so hard, though! He keeps racking his brain, screaming internally about how nasty he is.

"God, he would be so... disgusted." He said between bated breaths, running his hips back and forth so slowly. "I shouldn't even be thinking about John-"

Oh fuck. Saying his name- hearing his own voice say Johns name in such a shaky, pathetic way. It was sweet as honey, it was electrifying, erotic. His movements sped up. _Say it again._

"John..." His nails dug into the pillow beneath him, holding it in place while he rode it. "John- Mm.." It was incredible. His name tasted like sugar on his lips, the friction between his hips slowly edging him closer to his orgasm, and hopefully to a couple hours of sleep. Vincent can almost hear John in his head, his voice turning low and gruff, whispering back such lovely things in between every whine.

_"Keep goin', Vinny."_ God, he would be so demanding, so controlling. Just imagining John saying Vincents name made him throb and groan, closing his eyes.

"John, god, please,"  
 _"Please what?"_  
"Please, ha-"  
 _"Please what, Vinny boy?"_

And in his mind, John would have a nice, firm grip on his ass, his hips, guiding them. He'd raise his voice, telling Vincent to look at him, don't stop looking, don't stop moving. Finally in the heat of it, Vincent, internally, finally admits that he wants nothing more than to fall apart in Johns arms. Breathe in his scent, drown in it, have John grab him and toss him around like a doll, let John enjoy his body, and Vincent would service his every wish.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" He moaned, sweetly, thrusting against the pillow like a sad, horny dog. "John, John-"

Every aggressive, self-degrading thought Vincent had before was absolutely gone by now, melted away in the presence of Johns sweet scent, of the linen cupping his cock and turning warm with the heat and lust Vin absolutely reeked of. There was not a thought in his head besides that stupid jock and his big hands and broad shoulders and his muscles- god his muscles. It was just John, and the pleasure he felt thinking of John.

He could feel it encroaching, the knot in his stomach pulling and tightening. Sleep was clouding his mind, the movement in his hips getting sloppier. Vincent leaned forward, slamming his face into the other pillow he had, using it as a personal silencer. It felt so good to be loud, to say the things that cross your mind with reckless abandon as you inch closer and closer.

"God, John, I'm gonna- you're gonna make me- hah!"

Vincent opened his mouth and clamped down on the pillow, which muffled him as the knot finally pulled loose, screaming, "Fuck, John!" with a mouth full of sheets.

His hips started to slow, rubbing into the gooey mess left over from the bliss. Catching his breath, he slowly lifted himself up, watching himself as he peeled himself off the pillow, wet with love.

He collapsed on the side of it, the brim of the shirt feeling wet.

Well. It was worth it, considering that was probably one of the best orgasms he had ever given himself. Finally, after all this time, he could finally sleep too. Maybe if he washed it in the morning, John wouldn't notice the cum stain on his sweater.


End file.
